Repartee
by gryffindormischief
Summary: Ginny knows exactly what she's doing. And Harry doesn't mind.


A/N: 2300 words of honeymoon fluff for your enjoyment. Thank you to annikaleigh24 on tumblr for reading and encouraging my tooth rotting fluff haha.

* * *

The sun is warm in that way it never quite manages in London, seeping into her bones so she can practically feel the new freckles as they pepper across her skin, her eyelids blocking out everything but the orangey glow as she dozes.

Given the cloudlessness of the day, it's a bit of a shock when the sun's rays are interrupted by shadow and chilly droplets patter across her face and torso. Scowling, Ginny lifts her sunglasses and finds Harry looming overhead, hair slick against his head save a few rebellious strands and glasses spattered with salty drips.

"You're in my sun."

Harry grins, sun kissed cheeks dimpling, and shakes his head, sending more seawater across her bare skin. "But the water's so _refreshing_."

Ginny wriggles more firmly into her beach blanket and drops her sunglasses – and her eyelids – back down. "I don't doubt it, but I need some shut eye."

After letting out a longsuffering sigh, Harry plops down next to her, soft hairs brushing along her arm as he crosses his legs. "You're wasting daylight, dear."

"Well _I'm_ not the one who kept us up all last night."  
A snort. "I didn't hear any complaints."

She can feel him flop down next to her on his own stretch of blanket, his tart scent mixed with the smell of saltwater and sea air. "Regardless, I'm going on very minimal sleep, and I'm sure you don't want me to make it up _in the room_."

"That _would_ be a shame," Harry drawls, smirk evident in his voice as he rolls on his side, fingers tickling up her arm, "Although, there's no law that says our new _activities_ can only take place in the evening hours."

Ginny twists to mirror his position and pokes at his sandy chest, tendrils escaping from her hastily tossed up bun. "You got an extra hour of sleep the day of the wedding while Hermione was driving hairpins directly into my skull," she groans and flops back dramatically, "I need to refuel."

Wriggling closer, Harry kisses her shoulder, the base of her neck, behind her ear, and murmurs, "I can _relax_ you."

"Don't – ah – start," Ginny pauses as Harry nips at her neck, "something you can't – _finish_."

Harry kisses the tip of her nose, short and light, and pulls away to murmur, "Oh I'll finish it alright – even carry you back to our room."

Scowling, Ginny raises her sunglasses again. "But the _sun_ isn't inside."

"I told you not to wear that swimsuit."

* * *

Later, the sun's about set and Ginny pads across their _mostly_ clean suite, nudging her abandoned yellow bikini top with a bare toe before slipping into the bathroom. Harry's swim trunks are drying on the towel rack, the shower still damp from their earlier rinse. The bathroom is lux – marble floors and walls, meticulously shined fixtures – and Ginny's looking forward to an indulgent soak in the broad bathtub.

After she putters around, squeezing copious amounts of hotel provided bath soap into the filling tub, Ginny peers out into the bedroom where Harry's sprawled across the king size bed, sheets rumpled around his bare form as his chest rises and falls in that relaxed pattern of sleep.

Leaving the door open just a crack, Ginny busies herself finding everything she could possibly want before, during, and after her bath – a glass of fruit infused water, a fluffy bleached white flannel, a throw away muggle mystery novel from Hermione – and by the time she's finished, the tub is full to the brim, bubbles rising high over the top while complimentary scented candles cast a warm glow over the dimly lit room.

Once she sinks beneath the surface, muscles going pliant in the heated water, Ginny surrenders to the soothing environment and tosses her book away from the tub. It lands with a dull thud and Ginny sighs, sinking lower so her nose and eyes hover over the surface as she blows the bubbles childishly away from her face. She's dozing in that not quite asleep 'just resting my eyes' way when three short knocks sound at the door and Harry peers around the door, eyes widening comically behind his glasses as he takes in her bubble covered form.

His gaze darts away, cheeks flushing, "Are you – can I – toothbrush?"

Ginny snorts and pushes herself up higher in the tub. "I don't know? Can you?"

Harry sticks out his tongue and makes to dunk her under the surface, but Ginny darts away, sending sudsy water sloshing over the lip and onto his feet. Their gazes lock challengingly and Harry relents first, leaving Ginny feeling smugger than might be warranted – she's competitive, whatever.

As he turns away, Harry flicks the droplets from his feet and goes about brushing his teeth while Ginny twists and settles her chin on the side of the bath, bubbles dripping from her elbows to the glossy tiles below. "It's nothing you've not seen, dear. Full permission to look _and then some_."

His eyes meet hers in the mirror's reflection and Harry quirks a brow, that dangerous smirk that heats her blood ticking up the corner of his mouth. "How about sharing your bath, then?"

Blinking slow and flirtatious, Ginny scoots back and makes a show of the space in front of her, voice a low drawl, " _Be my guest_."

Still, the tension they've managed to work up while Harry looked partially rabid with minty foam diminishes somewhat as they attempt to maneuver without sending _too_ much water over the edge, giggling and poking at each other playfully. And eventually, they end up in a tangle of legs and arms, chests cuddled close together and Ginny's head pillowed on his shoulder, lips brushing his neck as she breathes quietly.

Harry raises one hand from Ginny's back, fingers scratching at her scalp and sending her loose bun wiggling in the process, loose strands curling in the humid air. "Am I interrupting your private time?"

"I wouldn't have invited you in if you were."

"I believe it was _I_ who did the asking," Harry murmurs against her hairline, leaning back until he's lounged against the slick bath, "It was very suave. Don't steal my thunder."

"Yes, suave is exactly how I'd describe the toothpaste foam you flecked all over the mirror," Ginny answers with a snicker, running her fingers over his muscled back. Harry's breath catches and Ginny grins against his throat. "Alright there, Potter?"

Slowly, Harry presses heated kisses down the side of her face, nipping at her ear, her neck, and lingering at her pulse point as she tilts her head back, sighing softly. He nuzzles there for a moment, cradling her in his arms to keep their balance. "I'm alright, how about you, Potter?"

* * *

After the first couple of lazy days, Ginny signs them up for lessons in various muggle water sports because _of course_. Which means it's much earlier than Harry would like when Ginny's alarm sounds and she nudges him, slipping from beneath the sheets and giving him a tantalizing view he can only enjoy until she's sauntered too far away for his unassisted eyesight.

She's just begin rummaging through her luggage when Harry flops onto his back, sheets twisted around his waist, and fumbles for his spectacles on the end table where they'd tossed them the night before. Ginny bites back a smirk when Harry frowns at the time, turning her back before he sighs and lets out a sleep deepened rumble, "Gin we've only been asleep for – "

"I _warned_ you last night," she pulls the little shorts up her freckled legs, " _And_ this morning," the top slips over her arms like a sleeveless jacket, zipping easily in the middle of her chest.

Pushing up in the rumpled bed, Harry pushes his glasses on and turns to Ginny, retort dying on his tongue and replaced with a moan, "Cause of death, Gin, tell the coroner you're my cause of death."

Ginny wriggles her brows, "Wait 'til you see the blue macramé one," she trots into the bathroom for a touch up with her razor, peaking around the frame and wielding the blade in Harry's direction, "And I will _not_ say that, because that sounds like murder."

Harry groans, "For the record, if I drown it _is_ your fault."

"Is that so?" Ginny asks, voice echoing over the sound of the running tap.

"Yes," Harry sighs, flopping back dramatically, "you've done me in."

She sets everything back where it belongs and slinks back toward the bed where Harry lays, eyes scrunched closed, and kneels over him, prodding his muscled chest. " _You_ picked the vacation spot, dear."

He fiddles with the zip front on her suit, nearly unleashing the 'beasts.' "Apparently I had a lot more faith in my ability to multitask than was warranted."

"It's not _multitasking_ ," she grins, "not sure what you think muggle water sports are," she adds with a wink, earning another groan as she leans low to brush her nose against his, "Just delayed gratification."

And then she leaves a short kiss on his lips, hopping away before his arms can band around her waist, and flutters about the room to pack up the remaining necessities for their day in the sun to the tune of Harry's best selection jilted lover numbers as he dresses.

* * *

Dinner that night is an overdone affair, with numerous courses filled with succulent meats, juicy indigenous fruits, and followed up with an even more decadent dessert. Because when else other than your honeymoon are you going to splurge for a _third_ dessert to split between the two of you. Harry's eyes go a little hazy as Ginny licks the last of the raspberry sauce from her spoon and sets it on the plate.

Bill charged to their room already, they lazily make their way from the restaurant to their room, the night moonlit and breezy, ocean air sending Ginny's hair wild.

When the door drops shut, Ginny can't bring herself to do more than kick her sandals off with two thuds against the wall and collapse back onto the bed, uncaring about the way her sundress bunches around her waist. "Is it too soon to say I can barely move I'm so stuffed."

Harry toes off his shoes and slides them in their empty spot, laughing lightly, "I could've said that halfway through first dessert."

Ginny kicks out at him, barely brushing his knee as he wanders closer, slowly slipping the buttons of his loose linen shirt free. "I _meant_ I'm supposed to keep the magic alive for a few months," Harry slips his shirt from his shoulders and Ginny's mouth goes a bit dry, "Haven't you heard of the honeymoon period?"

"Is this Hermione?" Harry guesses, smirking as he slides the shirt back onto a hanger, "This sounds like Hermione."

"It's not a _bad_ idea I guess," Ginny trails off, slightly losing her focus as Harry emerges from the loo after washing his face and a stray droplet slowly meanders down his chest.

His glasses drop back down and Ginny's mostly got herself under control when he tosses the hand towel away, "Would you feel better if I _also_ say I'm stuffed?"

Ginny wriggles a bit as she works her sundress up her body while moving as little as possible. "Maybe a little."

Harry blinks once, twice, as her dress clears her middle and bunches below her chest, but makes a valiant effort to continue the thread of their conversation, "'sides, honeymoon that's food and ocean and – "

She pauses, grinning, " – shagging."

"Such a Harpy," Harry says in a low voice.

Completing her quest, Ginny pulls the dress clean over her head and tosses it in the general direction of the wardrobe, "You've got to say it sometime," she pauses and sits up, giving Harry a lovely view, "In fact, we're not doing anything – and I _mean_ anything – until you say it."

He clears his throat, going somewhat hoarse, "What, shag? I'm an auror you forget. Harpies aren't the only ones with – "

"Nope," Ginny cuts in, finishing the word with a big pop, "I want something more involved so you've got to really _mean_ the word."

Harry snorts, "For example?"

This gives her pause, considering this may be her one shot to get some raunchy confession out of Harry for the foreseeable future, so she stalls by stroking her chin thoughtfully. "Ginevra Molly Weasley _Potter_ is the greatest shag of my life and – "

" _Only_."

"Don't ruin the sentiment," Ginny shoots back, undeterred as she tousles her hair.

Leaving his jewelry on the dresser, Harry rubs his hair habitually, "I'm not complaining, just clarifying."

Ginny kicks out at him ineffectually, a scowl wrinkling her brows, "I'll clarify something for you."

Harry raises his hands, placating, "All right, I give."

"Good," Ginny drawls, dropping back onto the bed, which has been turned down by housekeeping, their pillows each sporting a gourmet chocolate after dinner mint.

And though the subject seems dropped, Harry saunters over, trousers part undone, and lets his fingers tickle along her bare foot and up her leg, teasing at her knee where he _knows_ it drives her crazy,"Ginevra," a kiss to her ankle, "Molly," he kneels and presses his lips to the inside of her knee, "Weasley," then just below her belly button, " _Potter_ – "

Before he can continue his slow path, Ginny growls and pulls him the rest of the way up locking her legs around his waist and moaning into the kiss, fingers tugging at his wild hair.

Pulling away with a smirk as Ginny begins fumbling with his trousers, Harry nudges her chin with his nose, "I thought you were too stuffed to do 'anything'."

Ginny tugs him into a breathless kiss, "That's why _you_ will be doing the legwork, dear."


End file.
